


Star-Crossed

by Doitlikeagreaser



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Juliet come pick up your mans, M/M, Mercutio and Paris are Brothers, Nothing too explicit though, Romeo is a tad homophobic, also a little bitch boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27548737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitlikeagreaser/pseuds/Doitlikeagreaser
Summary: Paris had heard the news and was in the streets as soon as he could. There was no way this could have possibly happened. But it had.Paris loses his brother and his lover in the same day, but the show must go on.
Relationships: Benvolio Montague & Paris (Romeo and Juliet), Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague, Mercutio/Benvolio Montague, Paris/Tybalt (Romeo and Juliet)
Kudos: 19





	Star-Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> My friend had Emotions over Paris/Tybalt and Benvolio/Mercutio, and this piece of art is the result of that. :)

Paris had heard the news and was in the streets as soon as he could. There was no way this could have possibly happened. But it had.

"Tybalt? Tybalt, look at me, please, please look at me," he was saying, lifting up his partner's upper body, checking his eyes and asking him loudly in his ear, "Tybalt, what happened?" Paris got incredibly nauseous at the very thought of blood being spilt, but now that it was spilling out of someone he cared about, he was determined to be brave for him. Even though they'd only been together for about a month.

"Alunno..." Tybalt rasped, opening his eyes, and the wound in his stomach continued to leak, "I'm... sorry, I didn't mean to hurt him... I only meant for a playful fight..."

"Who did you hurt?" Paris asked, even more panicked knowing someone else was hurt. 

Tybalt, squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. "It was your brother, Mercutio. I only meant for a playful fight with the Montagues... but that kid was too much of a wuss and your brother took over then the boy decided he wanted in and... I missed and stabbed him. The kid who stabbed me, Romeo Montague, will be banished. I don't know if that makes you feel better. I'm sorry, Alunno..." Paris's heart was obviously shredding to pieces, and Tybalt reached up and ruffled his hair. "If you get the chance, tell that brother of yours to watch his tail, or he's getting hurt."

"He just... he doesn't know you," Paris said softly, trying to get him as comfortable as he could. "Just like I don't know you." Tybalt looked hurt at that, and rested his head against Paris's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Tybalt?" Tybalt opened his eyes. Paris boosted him up to give him a kiss. 

"I'm going to miss you, Alunno," Tybalt said with a tiny smile, then relaxed in Paris's arms for the last time. Paris buried his face in Tybalt's still chest, sobbing. 

"I don't want you to go..." he whispered as Lady Capulet came over to inspect her nephew. 

* * *

"Sir?" Paris peeked into Lord Capulet's room. The man had pretty much given Paris free range of the house, and especially enjoyed it when he came to visit in that room. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," the Lord said, "Come in, Paris. I wanted to let you know I have come to a decision on the marriage." 

Paris had forgotten about the plan he and Tybalt had come up with. He was fine with it when he had something to look forward to, but he didn't even want to consider the idea now. He already thought himself a widower. "What about it?"

"I have decided you and Juliet may be married tomorrow," Capulet said, and Paris started. "You see, Juliet is heartbroken over the loss of her cousin--" Paris let out a sob but disguised it as a cough, "--and I think a wedding would at least distract her for a while, give her some relief from the pain in her heart." He had no idea what was going on upstairs as he spoke. 

"Would you object, sir, if I was to visit Tybalt in his resting place at some point?" Paris asked, feeling like he had to leave before he burst into tears again. Not only was the one person he really wanted to be with always gone forever, but he was also going to still have to marry a twelve-year-old. This couldn't get any worse, could it? 

"If you'd like," Capulet said with a shrug. He had never given the impression to be very close to his wife's nephew, and didn't seem to give any regard to the fact that he was gone. Not that many Capulets liked Tybalt; he was a bit too tough and hard to approach, and didn't have many friends. Paris was one of the only people to break through his hard exterior to the nice person under that. He just liked fighting, and he died doing what he liked. 

"Thank you, sir," Paris said, giving him a polite bow and hurried out of the room. He had gone home as soon as Lady Capulet tore him away from Tybalt that afternoon, changed into mourning black, and had gotten a handful of flowers. He went to the place where Mercutio was, and he was surprised to find that he was clearly not alone. 

He could hear soft sobs from inside the tomb, and a quiet voice saying, "Mercutio, why did you have to fight? Why? No one was making you... Mercutio, don't leave me with all these crazy people. All they do is fight and lust and want to hurt... I just want the fighting to stop, I want you to be okay again." 

Paris tiptoed in, and his eyes immediately filled with tears. Mercutio had been so active his whole life, it was unnerving to see him so still. There was a boy, about Mercutio's age, curled up next to him, crying against this doublet. The boy sat up upon hearing Paris step on a loose stone. 

"Oh, hello," he said, "Are you Paris?" 

"Yes," Paris said, coming over to him. The place had a large quantity of flowers, and Paris almost snorted. "Mercutio would hate this; everyone being sad and not just celebrating his life."

"He'd hate the darkness and sadness," the boy said, "He'd probably be telling me right now, 'Cheer up, Benvolio! I almost got that Capulet, if your dumb cousin hadn't gotten in the way...' I'm sorry, I know you're close to them." Benvolio looked at Mercutio's closed eyes. "I swear, every time I look at him I think I could just give him a hug and he'd be awake and be trying to do something scandalous to me, even if you were here."

"He probably would," Paris said softly, "He might even be encouraged to do it while I'm here."

"True," Benvolio said with an almost happy sigh, resting his head against the deceased boy's shoulder. "He was wonderful. I'd never tell him, but while he was stupid as anything, he was brave. I always hurried away whenever a Capulet would try for a fight. And a few times he's taken the fight for me. I'd have to pull him out before someone died, but... I don't know why I couldn't stop him this time. It was like I knew there was nothing I could do." He sniffed. "I miss him so much... I've almost wondered if it would be worth the trouble to try witchcraft to bring him back..."

Paris asked him if he wanted to be alone, and Benvolio said if he would be alright with it, he would like some time with Mercutio. As he left, he heard Benvolio resume his slightly louder crying. 

Paris began walking around town, to the places he knew Tybalt liked to go by. He thought about how he had once surprised Tybalt with flowers, not sure if he would like it, but luckily, Paris found out that day that the boy had a secret love for them. He also found out the boy could become a blushing mess if he got the proper affection. Tybalt had been surprisingly soft on the inside when he let someone in. And no one else knew. Paris knew Tybalt and his sister's parents weren't particularly interested in them, but it was sad that he didn't want anyone to know that he had a heart, and it loved. 

He figured he would visit in the morning, when there weren't many people, and he could get a good set of flowers for him. He wanted to find the best ones he could find. He brought some flowers home, so he could bring them in the morning. He was able to retain his composure until he reached his chamber, and curled up on his bed, staring at the window. Paris wished that he wasn't alone. Tybalt had a habit of leaving through his window around nine at night and climbing up to Paris's room and sleeping there. Paris didn't mind, though he had to convince him that no, he wasn't being annoying and that he liked him coming to visit. There were nights when Tybalt would ask if he could join him in his bed -- he usually would be happy sleeping on the cushioned chair sideways, he chose to do this -- claiming it was cold, though Paris knew it was a lie when he'd still ask when it was August. When he finally got comfortable with the idea, he'd tuck himself right under Paris's arm, and would usually not shut up until late. That's how Paris found out about his parents. 

"I wish you were here," Paris sighed, then heard the clock chime eleven. He took a pillow and stuck it under his arm, hoping that would work, but it wasn't warm by any stretch of the imagination. Finally, he fell into a restless sleep. 

* * *

Paris woke up the next morning, feeling groggy and sluggish. He was not looking forward to anything that was happening today. He didn't want to get up, or eat, or especially marry Juliet. What a coping strategy, Lord Capulet. He knew none of it was really fair to Juliet, but the manor was nice, and she liked going outside and there was a large garden. Paris had lived there too long to appreciate it much. 

He got up and stretched, thinking he'd go over to the Capulet tomb around nine, when a messenger showed up and told him Juliet was dead. Well, he was changing his plans, then. He went to the Capulet manor, where everyone was hysterical and crying. Paris felt bad that his first reaction was that no one ever reacted like this the other day to their loss. He gave everyone their condolences, then requested to be permitted to go to pray for everyone. 

It was very eerie in the tomb. the only Capulets he could see were Tybalt and Juliet. Juliet had already been covered in flowers and such things, all prepared for a funeral, really looking more like she was asleep than anything else, but Tybalt looked very neglected and very clearly dead. Paris felt sick, seeing through the doublet the large gash in the boy's stomach, and, like Paris's brother, looked far too still to be real. He went over and placed the flowers next to the boy's shoulder, and gently took the cold hand in his. 

He couldn't contain himself any longer, and collapsed in sobs. "Why did you have to fight, Tybalt? Why?"

Paris stayed there for several hours, knowing everyone in the main house thought he was on the other side of the room. No one would've thought he'd be praying for the person whose parents he hadn't asked for their hand in marriage. 

Somewhere around two in the afternoon, something moved outside the tomb. Paris sat up, face streaked with tears. Through the doorway came a boy with blond hair -- similar to Benvolio's, but Benvolio's looked like it was turning brown as it grew out -- looking manic. Paris stood, suddenly angry. He knew exactly who the man was, and he didn't care if everyone pitied him or lifted him up on a pedestal. 

"You murderer!" Paris shouted, drawing his dagger. He didn't know why Romeo was there, but he wasn't interested in finding out. Now he understood Tybalt's unexplainable wrath for Montagues. "You killed him! You killed my brother, and you killed my love! You'll pay for this!"

He lunged at Romeo, and suddenly Paris was on the ground, clutching his stomach, coughing and struggling for his breath. He looked down and saw blood oozing from the wound. He wiped his mouth, and there was more. It didn't ever seem to stop coming. He looked up at the man in front of him, holding a bloody dagger. "Will... you lay me beside..." he choked out, not sure if the boy quite understood what he had said. Paris rested his head against the ground, trying to will away the pain, then looked up again, and he saw a face he never thought he'd see alive again. "Tybalt?"

"Alunno, you shouldn't be here," Tybalt said, kneeling down in front of him. He was hazy, and his voice sounded like it was far away.

"I can't... move," Paris stammered, "Tybalt, I think I'm dying... I'm scared."

"It'll stop hurting so much in a minute or two," his partner assured him, gently taking his arms away from his stomach. "See? All better." He was now clear and sounded like he was right there. Neither of them looked like they had ever been stabbed. 

Paris went to take a breath of relief, but no breath came. "Am I... dead?" Tybalt nodded. "Can we get our lives back?"

"You wish, Alunno," Tybalt said, grinning. "We're stuck dead. Your brother's trying to haunt his friend or whatever he called him. The friend, apparently, has been asking Friar Lawrence if there's any combination of herbs that could bring back the dead to their normal state. Hail Satan, I guess." 

Suddenly, Romeo was next to them. "Where's Juliet?"

"In the living world, which you better be glad you're not in right now, or I would kill you!" Tybalt snapped, drawing out his dagger. 

Paris did the same. "If you were so keen on dying, why didn't you let me kill you myself?" he asked.

"It's more romantic if I do it myself!" Romeo whimpered.

"Romantic? You want to talk about romance? I was going to avenge him! We're in love, for goodness's sake!" Paris growled, and Tybalt patted him on the back in approval. 

"Which one goes down in history, the love story of a couple of young lovers who are forbidden to be together, or a couple of men who are trying to be special and fancy?" Romeo asked, pulling out his knife.

"Romeo, your cousin and my brother -- who was also your best friend -- literally shared a bed every night," Paris pointed out. "I don't think you can exactly use that kind of argument."

"Oh, he can use the argument, shows how good of a friend he is," Tybalt sighed, "Now, Alunno, would you like to take the first hit?"

Before he could reply, Juliet appeared. She looked happy to see Romeo, until she saw that he and everyone else had their weapon out. She looked from one group to another. "What's the big idea?"

"They both tried to kill me!" Romeo said. 

"I never tried to kill you!" Tybalt grumbled, "I was literally just looking to burn off some steam and you were the first person I saw! Plus, you're a Monatgue."

"And I think I was pretty justified," Paris chimed in, "He killed the love of my life."

"But I thought you were in love with me," Juliet said, looking confused. 

"Unfortunately, no; I may like both men and women but you are not one of the women." Paris sighed, rubbing his forehead, "We got this idea that I'd marry you, but it would just a be business relationship. You could go do whatever you wanted and I could go do whatever I wanted, and we wouldn't even necessarily have kids or anything, unless you actually wanted them or it was required or something."

"Oh," Juliet said, then grabbed Romeo's arm, trying to pull him away, "Come on, sweetie, let's go over here and not kill anyone..."

Once they had left, Tybalt was grinning a little. "You realize you're stuck with me until the end of time, right?"

Paris looked at him with a sense of confusion. "Only that long?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you've enjoyed this, please consider leaving a kudos! Comments are also very much appreciated, as long as it's kept positive/constructive!


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